Page 11 of The Villain

Terror suddenly streaked through me, mixed with the insane arousal throbbing in every nerve ending of my body. Flags were waving in my head, bright red ones the size of football fields. But I ran for that end zone anyway.

The lion kind withdrew his fingers from my mouth, then gripped my hair and wrenched my head back. A shudder ran through his body. Or maybe I imagined it. Maybe it wasmyshudder.

“Still want to play this game?” he growled.

I didn’t think. Just reacted. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue.

Because I was no quitter.

My entire body shook with adrenaline, fear, and the need for release. And maybe a little curiosity, too. Because for the first time in my life, being on my knees felt…right.

He slapped the fat head of his cock on my tongue with a wet smack, and his piercing flashed in the light. His lips curled in a sinister smirk. “Fine.”

He surged inside with one smooth thrust, until the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. I choked immediately. The length was too much. The girth was too much. All of ittoo much. I couldn’t breathe. My chest heaved. And yet my cock pulsed in my jeans, demanding more. Demanding itall. A whimper clawed its way up my throat as he pulled his hips back, then surged forward again. And again. There was drool everywhere, all over my lips and cheeks and chin, as I gurgled around his fat cock. And all the while, I watched his nostrils flare with every thrust into my willing mouth.

“If you’re not going to use your mouth to talk,” he rasped, holding my head in place as he fucked into it, “then it’s going to get used like the fuckhole it is.Myfuckhole.”

I made a sobbing sound around his shaft, and more spit dribbled to the floor as he held me by the hair and used me exactly how he wanted.

“You want to play games, devil? Here’s the game.” His voice had gotten deeper. Rougher. “If you won’t talk, then you’ll take my cum—wherever I decide. On your face, down your throat… Or maybe I’ll gape that tight ass and spray your guts instead. I’ll use you however I want, whenever I want. And you’ll take it like a good little bitch.”

His movements were sharper now. Deeper. His balls slapped my chin. Snot bubbled from my nostrils. My vision blackened at the edges. Pretty sure I heard angels singing.

“Fuck, you have a good mouth. Anyone ever use you like this? Anyone fuck your throat until you couldn’t speak?”

No. No one had ever done anything like this. Despite all the dreams I’d had, I had never sucked a cock before.

Both hands locked on the sides of my head as he drove in harder, his cock jerking in my mouth with every thrust. I whimpered, and more tears streamed down my face. I wanted to taste him so badly I thought I’d die if he stopped. Then a shudder tore through his body. His fingers squeezed my face. I felt his cock start to pulse before he slammed into my mouth so deep his pubic hair tickled my nostrils.

And then he came. Like a torrent. The thick, salty cum shot down my throat as my body rebelled, and I gurgled and choked and drowned in it until I forced myself to swallow. It was everywhere—the roof of my mouth, under my tongue, settling into the grooves of my molars—the rest spilling out around his shaft to slide down my chin. He dropped my face and took a step back as I slumped forward, cock throbbing so hard one touch would set me off. Just one…

My hands were immediately yanked away. I let out a cry of frustration as my arms were hauled behind my back and the cuffs snapped shut again.

I knelt there, chest heaving, face a dripping mess, as the lion king crouched in front of me on the balls of his feet. His massive dick was hidden away in his pants, as if the last few minutes hadn’t even happened. He barely looked winded.

Meanwhile, I was definitely going to die. My cock hurt like a bitch, and my balls were on fire. I stared at the floor, mouth slack, feeling somehow less than human.

His fingers gripped my chin in a deceptively gentle touch, and he drew my face up to meet his eyes. “Still think I can’t handle you?”

I let out a rough laugh. Or it might have been a groan. I made some sort of noise. His lips parted, and his gaze darted down to my still-hard dick before returning to my eyes.

“Don’t you dare come.”

He stood. The door opened. A burst of sunlight shone through. The door shut. And then I was alone again, wet with spit and another man’s cum.

For a long time after, I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure I could. My throat was on fire, and I tasted nothing but salty, musky cum. There wasn’t any water to wash it down—nothing but my own spit. I ran my tongue over my lips, the roof of my mouth, the back of my teeth. I could taste him everywhere.

Denying me an orgasm should have sent me into orbit. The Devlin from a year ago would have been out of his mind. But as I knelt there on that dirty floor, cock still tenting my jeans, all I could hear was his command.

Don’t you dare come.

Maybe I could have ground one out on the floor. Maybe I could have humped myself into an unsatisfying orgasm on my cot, like some horny teenager. But I didn’t want to. Not really.I wanted the roar of blood in my ears, the ache of denial in my balls.

Once my cock had finally softened enough that it didn’t feel like a third leg, I struggled to my feet. The chain rattled across the floor as I stumbled over to the cot and collapsed. I rolled to my side, head on the meager pillow, eyes growing heavy, and I replayed images from earlier. His thick, tattooed knuckles around the base of his cock. That piercing. His full balls. His penetrating stare while he made me take it. I heard the echo of my choked breathing in the small space as my cock grew hard again. And I let it.

I was thirty-fucking-three years old, and I’dneverhad a sexual experience like that. I’d imagined it so many times. I’d watched porn and jacked off until my eyes crossed and my dick was raw. I’d tried to fuck myself with dildos and plugged my ass with vibrators. Nothing had worked.

My earliest crush had been on Conrad Stafford, my best friend and protector when I was a kid. I’d clung to that crush until it had turned into a full-blown obsession in my late teens. I’d jerked it to dreams of him fucking my face. To fantasies of him tying me to a bed and reaming my ass with his big dick. To the thought of wearing his collar and handprints.